


Tomorrow

by zebrahat



Series: Spit it Out [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Dildos, Dubious Consent, F/F, Genderswap, Harry and Draco are girls, Humiliation, M/M, Magical Sex Toys, Nipple Clamps, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rape/Non-con Elements, Spanking, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 14:19:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15608142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zebrahat/pseuds/zebrahat
Summary: The command makes Harry’s stomach flutter, he wants to bolt, heneedsto orgasm, he wants to press himself against Malfoy until they both come undone.





	Tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> Harry and Draco are female-bodied, with masculine pronouns. It just sort of came out that way. Part III of the Spit it Out series.

“You’re late, Potter.”

Harry hovers nervously by the door to the Room of Requirement, worrying at the buttons on his sleeve and picking at the loose threads. His eyes dart between Malfoy, sprawling on a dark green sofa near the far wall, and the escape route he turns toward almost imperceptibly, but knows deep down he won’t take. 

“Get that rag you call a shirt off and get over my knee,” Malfoy orders sharply. 

Harry stands there ungainly, wishing he could suppress the red heat already prickling across his chest and the shuddering need between his thighs. He’s ridiculously, absurdly wet, despite having changed his underwear about three times already today. 

“Look,” he says, “look, Malfoy, you said you’d do the counterspell if I came back, all right?” Harry knows he’s failing in his attempt to sound coolly authoritative and not like he’s pleading desperately for Malfoy to get the spell off and, well, get him off. He twitches at the thought, body veering unconsciously toward the door as though he might actually make a run for it. 

“You do want me to take it off, don’t you?” Malfoy smirks, “or maybe you like wandering around the castle in heat…”

“No!” Harry splutters.

“I mean, I’m not in _heat_ , for fuck’s sake,” he mumbles, face lighting up.

Malfoy just laughs. “Prove it then – show me your knickers, _Harry._ ” 

That doesn’t even make sense, Harry thinks dimly, but it doesn’t matter because all he wants, very badly, is for Malfoy to take the spell off, having thought of little else for the last twenty-four hours. He’d barely slept, waking up every few hours futilely grinding his throbbing cunt against the mattress, turning and tossing, dreams fevered throughout the night. The image of Malfoy’s hand working between his thighs, head thrown back in pleasure… His cruel grin as he’d brought the thin tip of the riding crop down onto Harry’s aching clit over and again, the heated thrill in Harry’s belly at Malfoy’s filthy words in his ear. _You really are desperate for it, Potter._

With a dizzy heart, Harry makes his way across the room. He’s only a little unsteady on his feet. Malfoy looks like a fucking wet dream, lounging among the plump cushions. Harry’d have thought Malfoy would press his knees together, prim as anything in that pristine uniform, but his slim legs splay out carelessly. Harry’s gaze locks on the grey pleated fabric skimming his pale thighs. 

“Lift your skirt up, Potter, that’s it.” 

Malfoy’s mouth curves up as Harry grudgingly obeys, clamping his legs tightly together as though to preserve his virtue. It’s no good, naturally. Malfoy’s eyes are hot and heavy-lidded and they zero in immediately on the damp cotton between his thighs. 

“Wet through,” he muses, eyes flicking up to Harry’s, “and I’ve not even touched you.” 

Harry bristles at that, dropping his skirt, “you know bloody fine well that you’ve – you’ve – ” 

Malfoy tsks at him, sitting up on the edge of the sofa and dislodging one of the cushions in the process. 

“You know, Potter, that spell isn’t some kind of aphrodisiac. You see, it actually _stops_ you from reaching orgasm. So if you’re about to come in your pants in the middle of Potions class, that’s hardly my fault, now is it?” 

Malfoy’s smug expression is absolutely infuriating, as is the lust that roils through Harry at his words. 

“You – you know that’s not what…” Fuck. Harry’s not stupid – he knows Malfoy’s teasing him. In more ways than one. It’s just that he can’t quite think straight, can’t quite access the words he needs. “You weren’t even in Potions today,” Harry says stupidly. It’d driven him mad the entire lesson – the vital question of where the hell Malfoy was and what the hell he was up to, well, that had been far more compelling than listing the properties of the three ethical ingredients used to substitute fairy wings. 

“Missed me, did you?” Malfoy’s still just _looking_ at him, eyes dark and predatory, mouth curving dangerously, making Harry even wetter than he’d thought possible. 

“Pansy did mention you were a little hot and bothered… or how did she put it?” He grins wickedly. “Oh yes! I believe ‘virtually humping the table leg’ was what she told me.”

Harry’s chest burns at the memory, he’d been discreet, or so he thought and really _humping_ is a bit of an exaggeration, isn’t it? Pansy’s not wrong though, is she. He’d just needed the press of something, anything, against his clit, needed to take the edge off his desperate arousal. 

“Why’re you _doing_ this?” Harry whispers, voice cracking. Malfoy’s lips stretch wide, eyes glittering in the low light. 

“Because, Potter,” he says, “you like it.” 

Harry shivers, unable to deny it. 

“Now take your shirt off. And get over my knee.” The command makes Harry’s stomach flutter, he wants to bolt, he _needs_ to orgasm, he wants to press himself against Malfoy until they both come undone. 

Shakily, he begins to unhook the buttons of his shirt, staring down at the carpet, unable to bear the weight of Malfoy’s heated gaze. His hands are barely cooperating, so finally he wrenches the shirt over his head, glasses tangling in the fabric. He drops his bra and crosses his arms.

“There,” he says defiantly, feeling strangely bolder without his shirt. 

Malfoy feigns disinterest, glancing down pointedly. Harry hesitates but gamely folds himself over Malfoy’s lap, feet dangling just above the floor, cunt igniting with pleasure from the lightest brush of Malfoy’s thighs. Unfortunately, Malfoy seems to realise this and shifts his weight, spreads his legs a bit, denying Harry access to the firm pressure he’s craving. Harry twitches as Malfoy flips his skirt up, exposing plain, white knickers, palming the damp fabric and worming a finger inside the elastic to confirm Harry’s wetness. 

Harry’s body shudders with need. 

One hand holds Harry in place by the small of his back, the other skims over Harry’s thigh, lightly resting on his arse. Malfoy moulds the cotton fabric between Harry’s cheeks, finding the opening he’s looking for and gradually working it inside the tight hole, pulling it slowly out and fucking it back in a few times until Harry’s shifting and clenching. 

Malfoy drags Harry’s knickers down to his ankles and wastes no time, cracking a palm firmly against his bare arse, rubbing and kneading into the ache blooming out over Harry’s buttocks. Groaning low in his throat, Harry’s distantly pleased that he’s managing not to squirm too much as Malfoy brings his hand down again and again, raining blows across his tender thighs, spanking Harry’s cheeks mercilessly without pause, the momentum forcing Harry to scramble and grab at Malfoy’s ankles to stay in position. 

Dragging his palm over the reddened, bruised flesh, Malfoy trails teasing fingers along the cleft of Harry’s arse, gently circling his quivering hole. Harry can’t help himself, he keens into it, wriggling in Malfoy’s lap. His arousal feels urgent and unbearable, and he’s not sure how much more of this he can take. Malfoy tugs Harry’s cheeks apart and just holds for a minute or so, staring at the pink, furled opening and delighting in the way Potter squirms under the attention. 

“How disappointing,” Malfoy says, delicately spitting a gob of warm saliva directly onto Harry’s hole and rubbing it into his sensitive rim, making Harry cringe deeply. “Hardly left any marks at all – I obviously went easy on you.”

“Your pretty white bum’s come up nice and red though,” Malfoy continues. He gives a few more quick slaps for good measure, nudging Harry’s thighs apart to reveal his leaking cunt. Harry twists in Malfoy’s lap, thigh slipping down between Malfoy’s, finally, _finally_ pushing his clit up against bare flesh. He bites back a groan but can’t stop the violent jerk of his hips. 

“Mmm, I can see your soaked slit, your pink little hole dribbling white all over my leg,” Malfoy goes on, poking a finger into Harry’s wet opening for emphasis. 

He squeezes Harry’s inflamed arsecheeks, delivering a flurry of stinging sharp smacks to his vulva, making him grind and moan, hot and ashamed, desperate as ever to come. 

Malfoy hauls Harry’s legs back over his own, and continues ruthlessly spanking with great force now, delighting in every tremble and twitch of Harry’s arse. Panic surges in Harry’s chest as he lurches forward, he lets out an embarrassing sort of squeak, arms flying out to brace the fall, face mashing into the carpet, breasts painfully squashed by this awkward new position Harry’s found himself in. He grunts a little, turning his face to the side, mouth slack, panting as he desperately tries to wriggle back onto Malfoy’s lap. 

“L-let me…” Harry pants, awkwardly. 

“I don’t think so Potter, I rather think this new position suits you. Arse up over my lap, cheeks spread nice and wide for me, face down in the muck where you belong.” The cut-glass sneer in his voice goes shamefully straight to Harry’s clit. 

Malfoy yanks Harry’s legs apart, gripping tightly to hold him in place. He’s balanced over Malfoy’s left knee, legs hooked under the right, arse tilted up in the air, giving Malfoy the perfect view of both holes. He can’t get any leverage somehow to even squirm away, and so he lies, upturned, and takes it, feeling exposed in entirely new ways. All the tricks Malfoy and his friends have cooked up to creatively humiliate him feel almost clinical in comparison to the heady intimacy of being slung over Malfoy’s knee, their bodies flush, pressing and rubbing against one another. 

Malfoy keeps teasing both of Harry’s beautifully twitching holes, slapping and stroking, shallowly pumping in and out between stinging smacks. 

“You want me in here?” Malfoy asks, pushing a finger lightly against Harry’s wet hole, “or here?” he nudges a thumb over Harry’s arsehole. Harry just moans, driving his cunt against Malfoy’s thigh, so strung out and craving friction as much as he wants to be filled up and fucked hard. 

“In fact, why choose?” Malfoy pauses the onslaught to reach for his wand, summons a couple of thick plastic pricks from across the Room. Harry makes a wonderful choked little sound when the first one pushes into his cunt, sliding straight to the hilt. He’s panting and clawing at the carpet by the time Malfoy’s stuffed the second in his arse, both pressing inside so deeply Harry can’t breathe, he feels so full and overstretched. 

“Ah!” Harry thrashes as Malfoy grasps both dildos in one hand, squeezing them together, and gives them a little tug, testing their resistance. 

Harry’s more than half off Malfoy’s lap by now, and so Malfoy tips him the rest of the way, leaving Harry sprawled inelegantly somewhere between the floor and all fours, spasming around the synthetic cocks lodged inside him, skirt rucked up around his waist, nipples grazing the carpet and sending horribly delicious sparks through his body. 

Harry shudders as he’s hauled up onto his forearms, legs kicked wide apart. Malfoy flicks his wand and slowly drags the dildo nearly all the way out of Harry’s cunt before slamming it back in. Harry rides the force of it, gasping out in little huffs. The prick implanted in his arse begins a twisting churn deep between Harry’s legs. They set off at an unpredictable rhythm, sometimes both rocking into him steadily, then for a while a stuttering in-and-out, each hole barely emptied before being filled up again. Harry can hardly catch his breath, the pace of it’s punishing, all he can do is hang his head low and ride it out, sweat dripping into his lashes, mingling with the tears beginning to form.

An obscene image of how he must look flashes through his mind, as he imagines Malfoy’s smug face looking down at Harry’s spread cheeks, twin dildos fucking into him relentlessly. His vision is interrupted by Malfoy kneeling down to play with Harry’s tits, squeezing and fondling and slapping, enjoying their sway and tremble. Harry, utterly overwhelmed, thrusts his breasts into Malfoy’s grabbing hands, gasping, moaning, and rocking his hips in little circles. 

“Your nipples are getting nice and stiff,” Malfoy says, pinching and rolling them to hard peaks. Cold metal snaps over Harry’s left nipple, then right. He yells out in shock, the biting sharpness of the clamps momentarily slicing through every other sensation. 

“Shake those darling little tits for me, Potter,” leers Malfoy, flicking the clamps so that the tiny bells fastened to them tinkle softly. Harry’s momentarily bewildered, he doesn’t know why this should make him feel so hot and faintly embarrassed, but it does, the way they jangle each time the dildos fuck back into him, no matter how much he tries to tense his muscles and stop them from ringing out.

A soft fingertip strokes gently over Harry’s sore clit. He surges involuntarily into the touch, the bells jangling wildly as he writhes and whimpers. “Hmm, not quite yet,” Malfoy murmurs. Harry’s eyes flutter closed with painful arousal. He’s grinding and shaking, tits bouncing for Malfoy’s pleasure and arse red raw from the crack of Malfoy’s palm. He can feel his orgasm building and rising with each thrust of unyielding plastic inside him, intensified by a day and night of wanting and waiting. 

Malfoy gets his hands dirty, grasps the flared base of each dildo, twisting one and then the other inside Harry. Slowly he fills Harry up completely, then finally leaves him gasping and shivering at the loss, the sudden slick emptiness inside him. 

“You want this off, don’t you?” he asks curling his fingers around Harry’s clit and flicking it hard, savouring Harry’s harsh gasp. 

“Tell you what,” he says, as though the idea has only just occurred, “if you can get me off in three – no, let’s say four minutes, I’m nothing if not generous,” he grins widely, “if you get me off before the time’s up then I’ll take off the spell. Sound good?”

“Malfoy…p-please…” Harry stutters, “you, you said – ”

“And I will,” Malfoy says smoothly, “but it’s about time you put some of the work in, don’t you think?” Malfoy shifts into position behind Harry, lets his heavy, plastic prick push up against Harry’s thighs, nudging and searching. He feeds the tip of his cock into Harry’s sore arsehole, watching the puckered flesh open and stretch to take him in. 

“But I thought I’m supposed to make you come,” says Harry, baffled. He’d been lost in anticipation, imagining he might be about to feel the slick of Malfoy’s cunt against his fingers, or even his tongue. 

“Yes, Potter, do keep up.” 

“But how…?” 

“Magic, Potter, obviously,” says Malfoy, the accompanying eyeroll quite evident in his tone. 

“What?” Harry doesn’t quite get it, but he’s instantly suspicious, certain that Malfoy’s playing him. “Come on, you can’t expect me to believe that. You could be faking it anyway – how would I even know?”

Malfoy sighs. “Because every twitch of your tight little hole around my prick goes straight to my clit,” he says, thrusting in and giving a little moan, as though that settled the matter. Apparently it did, since even the mention of Malfoy’s clit makes Harry’s mind short-out with desire, his suspicions evaporating. 

“And because if you work that sweet arse hard enough, I’ll fill you up with come ‘til you’re dripping with it,” he says. “Of course, if you can’t keep to time,” he continues slyly, “I reckon that’s, let’s see… ten spanks for every thirty seconds you go over.”

“Wait – what?” 

“Oh, and your time’s started by the way.”

“That’s not fair!” Harry’s protest is weak and they both know he’s too far gone to stop this now. Grunting in resignation, Harry works his hips rapidly, rocking back and forth on Malfoy’s cock, his back arching with the effort, palms digging into the carpet for leverage, bells tinkling a merry tune, tits aching with every bounce. He heaves his body forward, pulling out all the way to the tip and squeezes his muscles hard before slamming his arse back against Malfoy’s hips, again and again. Finally, Malfoy lets out a series of breathy little moans that make Harry dizzy with need, he can’t believe Malfoy’s making those sounds because of _him_. He can do this, he thinks, fucking back and forth in a gruelling rhythm, his thighs beginning to ache almost as much as his well-fucked hole. 

Malfoy’s not lying about his magically-enhanced strapped-on prick or faking the little moans he lets slip. Well, only a little exaggeration, maybe – let Potter think he was in with a chance. Of course, he has no intention of letting Potter off the hook yet – he’s enjoying Potter’s shameless desperation far too much, and wants to milk it for all he can. Another round of spanking Potter’s hot little bottom, well, that’s just a bonus, Malfoy thinks, holding his pleasure back. 

“Four minutes!” Malfoy says cheerfully. 

Harry cries out in frustration. He snaps his hips back and forth, over and over, determined to make Malfoy lose control, slamming his arse back against Malfoy’s thighs with incredible force, the bells jangling furiously. 

Malfoy begins to hum to the tune of them, appreciating the sight of his prick disappearing into Harry’s hole. 

“That’ll be ten spanks,” he says, a little breathless now. “Twenty!”

When Malfoy calls out “thirty-five!” with obvious glee, Harry’s almost crying with exertion. He’s a sweaty, dripping wreck, clit burning with the need for release as the pressure and force of it threatens to shatter him entirely. 

Shaking with tension, Harry’s arms collapse beneath him, the clamps digging painfully into his chest, bells finally silenced as he crashes downward, catching Malfoy off guard, his cock slipping out of Harry’s arse with a wet _pop_. The utterly indecent sight of Harry’s slippery, stretched-out, well-fucked hole gasping around empty air sends Malfoy over the edge, and, good as his word, he shoots out thin stripes of come across Harry’s convulsing arsehole, eyes glazing over unfocused as he frantically pumps out the last few spurts and watches it trickle down wetly into Harry’s open slit.

Panting, Malfoy reaches around to cup Harry’s cunt firmly. Harry thrusts helplessly into the touch, hoping dearly that Malfoy wasn’t serious about the timer. There was no way he’d be able to take this for even another minute, he’s sure of it. 

“Needy little thing aren’t you,” laughs Malfoy, breathlessly, “you’re at fifty, by the way.”

“I’m not sure my hand can take all that punishment tonight, not after I’ve already been so generous with you,” he says with mock sincerity. 

“Tell you what, I can give you twenty or so now,” Malfoy suggests, as though he’s doing Harry some great favour, “and that leaves a good thirty for tomorrow, I reckon.”

“What?” Harry’s head snaps up. “No,” he moans, in quiet realisation. Malfoy’s really not going to let him have any relief. Not tonight, maybe not ever, he thinks desperately. He doesn’t know how he’s going to get through another long night thrusting uselessly into the mattress, never mind another day of classes unable to concentrate on anything but his throbbing clit. 

“Oh yes, Potter.” He flips Harry onto his back. Malfoy descends over Harry, straddles him firmly, grips the clamps adorning his nipples and yanks them, hard, before seeming to reconsider. “Would you rather I gave your tits their spanking with them still on?” Malfoy asks, as though Harry has a choice in the matter. “A bit of slap and jingle, yeah?” 

A quick _Accio!_ and Malfoy’s in possession of a long, smooth wooden paddle. He pins Harry’s wrists above his head. “Yes that’s better,” Malfoy murmurs, swinging the paddle down to catch the underside of Harry’s breasts, making him cry out as wood meets flesh. “That’s one,” he says, digging the rough edge into Harry’s skin. Two more land above his nipples, dangerously close. Harry tenses, waiting. A thin blonde strand escapes the tie holding Malfoy’s hair back from his face and he pauses to curl it around his ear. The next wooden slap catches the clamp on Harry’s left breast, he hisses at the sharp blossom of pain. Pleased, Malfoy strikes directly at the clamp, forcing a nervous yell out of Harry as the metal teeth drag across his tender nipple. Another has it grazing just the tip, Harry’s straining and sweating and he howls when the next blow finally springs it from his chest in a starburst of agony. 

The second one proves more stubborn, taking eleven of Harry’s allotted spanks to dislodge. Harry yells and twists, but eventually Malfoy lifts Harry’s breast, squeezing it taut for leverage and brings the paddle down close and hard, again and again until finally its releases. Harry whimpers, body sagging in relief, nipples aching warmly.

“Mmm, got your tits nice and red to match your arse,” Malfoy says, swiping his thumbs tenderly over Harry’s nipples, making him arch up needily, his entire body fizzing with painful desire. 

Crushing his body against Harry’s and knocking the breath out of him, Malfoy leans to whisper obscene instructions, voice hot and low in Harry’s ear. 

“…first thing, 7 o’clock sharp, you best be ready for a good spanking, yeah?” 

“ – there’ll be no time to waste, so you’d better lube up that little bumhole for me…” 

“… and, well, I’m sure your cunt’ll fill up, no trouble...”

Harry can only shiver in response, until Malfoy snags Harry’s painfully swollen clit between his fingers, rubbing and playing and increasing the pressure. Overcome, Harry whimpers brokenly in agreement. 

Satisfied with the mess he’s made of Harry, Malfoy leaves him spread out on the carpet; hips twitching an involuntary rhythm, cunt aching and desperate.


End file.
